


Thorin's Weakness

by FandomFanficsGalore



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo is oblivious, Fluff, M/M, Thorin is a dork, can be read as friendship but like, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 13:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18757708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomFanficsGalore/pseuds/FandomFanficsGalore
Summary: Thorin has a... certain proclivity for the aesthetically pleasing.He likes cute things.





	Thorin's Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on my tumblr: https://ahobbitinerabor.tumblr.com :)

 

* * *

 

 

It was a well-kept secret that Thorin Oakenshield liked cute things.

Only the closest members of his company knew of his embarrassing soft spot; they were sure to kill rabbits only as a last resort, and distracted the rest of the company when they caught Thorin admiring a nest of birds nearby with unadulterated adoration. The stop at Beorn’s home was nearly disastrous. Thankfully, Thorin was mostly distracted by Beorn himself and the wargs biting at their heels, but there was many a fluffy creature that Balin caught him petting and murmuring soft words to beneath his breath.

The worst thing was that the company could never expect what Thorin found cute.

For one, he found Man babes cute–which were quite possibly the ugliest little things in Middle Earth to dwarrows. The babes had nearly no hair to speak of, not even the wisp of a beard, and they were all too soft and delicate. One tight hug and the poor things could break. Nevertheless, Bofur had once found Thorin cooing over the Man babe of a mother he’d smithed for, much to the mother’s surprised delight and the dwarrows’ embarrassment.

The dwarrows tried to keep it under lock and key, mind. So far they had been successful; Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thror, Son of Thrain, could show no weakness.

And then came the Hobbit.

 

Upon dwarrow standards, Hobbits were pitiful creatures, and not particularly delightful to look at. They were short and plump and lacked muscle and hair. Bilbo Baggins was all of these, smooth as a Man babe except for the curly hair upon his head and feet.

“Why doesn’t he grow a beard?” Kili asked the other dwarrows one night as they gathered around the campfire after dinner. Thorin sat alone on a boulder, set aside and unable to hear them. Bilbo sat beside him, though it seemed the two spoke little.

“Maybe he can’t,” Fili said.

Kili’s lips twisted in pity. Dwalin smacked him on the back of the head.

“Maybe you two should keep your business to yourselves, and leave the burglar to his,” he huffed.

Rubbing the back of his head with a pout, Kili dropped the subject, and no one else brought up hairless Hobbits again.

 

The keeping of their little secret was running smoothly until they were leaving Beorn’s forest. Their stay had allowed them all much needed rest, and it was bright when they stepped outside, their bellies full and their wounds mostly healed. Thorin still favored his left side, where the worst of the warg’s bites had embedded themselves into his flesh, but he held himself with pride.

The group marched along, Gandalf and Thorin at its head with the rest of the company trailing just behind. Sun warmed their backs as the trees thinned around them. Here, greenery bloomed in every nook and cranny, trees and bushes bursting with lush green leaves and flowers. What the dwarrows didn’t know–and quickly found out–was a Hobbit’s love of these things.

“Oh! Look–oh, wait, just a moment, please–”

Everyone turned, and Gandalf and Thorin’s footsteps halted. The king turned just in time to see Bilbo scurrying off through a break in the trees. Beyond was a field, empty except for grass and bunches of flowers, pink and red and blue. Bees and butterflies flurried as Bilbo brushed through, snatching up flowers as he went.

“What is the burglar doing?” Thorin demanded.

Everyone else shrugged.

In the field, the Hobbit scurried too and fro, disappearing and reappearing among the bushes. Finally Thorin’s patience waned and he marched forth.

“Burglar! We need to keep moving.”

Bilbo popped up from the rose bush he’d been crouched beside, and Thorin’s heart lurched. Grass and petals clung to Bilbo’s golden curls as he hurried forward. Flowers burst from his arms in an array of colors, and his cheeks were pink as he beamed.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen flowers like these,” Bilbo gushed, his hazel eyes alight with excitement. He looked like he’d been grown from the earth itself, bright and rosy. “Not since the Shire, at any rate. I know I can’t replant them, but they can at least brighten the mood, can’t they? And some of these are rather good for seasoning if you know how to use them right…”

The company exchanged nervous looks as Bilbo rambled. Thorin remained silent, and Gandalf chuckled beneath his breath.

Finally, Balin stepped forward, inching until he could see his king’s face.

Thorin stared at Bilbo, enraptured. The Hobbit hadn’t seemed to notice as he sifted through his picked flowers, buzzing happily. Balin cleared his throat.

“Thorin…?” he called. 

Bilbo halted. He glanced between them and leaned back a little at the gaze Thorin had fixed on him. It was… adoring, almost. Heat flushed across Bilbo’s cheeks.

“Balin,” Thorin spoke.

“Yes, my king?”

“I’m keeping him.”

A distraught sigh rose from the company beneath the Hobbit’s protests. Balin rubbed his temples. Trying to keep Thorin from fawning over Bilbo even once they reached Erabor was more work than any of them had signed up for.

Bilbo wasn’t none too happy, either, though he was unaware why the others were upset.

“I’m not some–some stray dog, thank you very much! And–”

His protest died on his lips when Thorin reached forward and plucked a rose from his arms. Bilbo’s lips parted as Thorin delicately slid it behind the Hobbit’s pointed ear. It rested against his temple, bright against his curls. The company turned away in embarrassment, Kili and Fili snickering.

“Wha–” Bilbo began.

“Come, cute Hobbit,” Thorin said, withdrawing. Bilbo found that he missed the warmth of his fingers against his face. “We must move.”

“Right… right…”

Thorin returned to the company and Balin cast Bilbo an apologetic smile before joining him. Still chuckling, Gandalf lead them on, leaving Bilbo rooted in place as the words settled into his mind.

“Wait… _what did he just call me_?”

 

* * *

 


End file.
